


Would it be enough if I could never give you peace?

by youlostpleiad



Category: All For The Game - Nora Sakavic
Genre: Fluff, Kind of angsty, M/M, but not too much, but the neil and andrew type
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-21
Updated: 2020-08-21
Packaged: 2021-03-06 20:22:15
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,606
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26034871
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/youlostpleiad/pseuds/youlostpleiad
Summary: Andrew is feeling things that are foreign to him and he has to find out how to process them.aka the time Neil got soft and Andrew didn't know he could be treated softly
Relationships: Neil Josten/Andrew Minyard
Comments: 10
Kudos: 272





	Would it be enough if I could never give you peace?

**Author's Note:**

> it took me a month to write this because andrew's pov was very hard to figure out, but I did my best and ultimately I am happy with how it turned out, and I hope you'll enjoy this too!

Andrew wishes he could say he doesn't remember when it started, but he does. Four months ago. They were laying in bed, his hand was tangled up in Neil's hair, their lips a hairsbreadth away when Neil asked  _ “Can I kiss you?” _ in return he said,  _ “Is this how much Exy has rotten your brain? We are.”  _

So Neil explained. Not that kind of kissing. He wasn’t asking to kiss his mouth. He wanted to feel more of Andrew, he said.  _ I thought you’d like lips on you better than hands _ Andrew guessed he didn’t. He said yes because this was Neil. Neil was good. Safe. 

So now he's laying in bed, his eyes trained on the ceiling trying not to think of how gentle Neil is being even after doing this so many times. He’s failing. Neil is next to him on the bed, holding himself up with his forearms and he’s kissing him. His collarbones, but he started, as always, with his lips. Then his jaw and his neck. Collarbones are typically when things go off-script, though if Andrew was to do the maths he thinks the most typical path is to go down his chest. Never bellow his belly button. Neil drew the line at his waist without Andrew even having to ask.

It's nice. It's always nice when Neil does this. But it's unnerving. He doesn't quite get what Neil gets from this. He thinks maybe it's like kissing his neck, Neil likes that Andrew likes it. Andrew liking it is what Neil gets from this, except he doesn't remember ever showing that he likes this, not that he doesn't, it's just annoying. Andrew wishes he could find a better word but Neil's lips are pressed against the inside of his wrist, softly, like they're barely even there, and then he drags them over Andrew's open palm and kisses it at the centre before he makes his way to Andrew's fingertips and kisses them one by one. 

It's so fucking annoying. His heart is beating at twice the normal rate. He feels something like fire spread through his chest. He ponders for a moment and decides that what he's feeling is the strain of his incessant heartbeat. 

He feels like he's going to explode. And all because Neil's kisses are so delicate they make him feel like he might shatter if Neil presses them any harder. And he hates that. He's not going to shatter. He's not fragile and he doesn't understand why Neil has this dumb need to treat him like he's going to break. And yet, he likes that this makes him feel. That Neil makes him feel. It’s like sitting on the roof.

He spent so long numbing himself to everything and everyone that he never knew if he would ever feel things again. Even then, most things he felt were usually tinged with something dark, something bad and painful and hurt. But this made him hurt in a new way. Burning. Somehow it wasn't bad. 

He didn't know what to do with any of this. He needed a minute to think. He needed a cigarette. 

“Neil.” He doesn’t ask him to stop, but his tone must be telling since Neil pulls back immediately. When he asks if everything’s alright, Andrew’s already halfway out the door pulling his shirt on. He tells Neil he needs a cigarette and heads down the stairs towards the front porch. He keeps a pack out there and reaches for it as soon as he steps outside. He counts 10 cigarettes left, always an even number because he always smokes with Neil. They share two. It probably evens out as half for Neil, one and a half for Andrew, but it’s what they do. Tonight he’s smoking for the both of them.

He finishes the first one in record time and lights the next one after only a second. It’s not helping. It’s not. He’s still thinking about the gentle way Neil kept kissing him. The barely-there presses of lips that Andrew could swear were burning through him. He takes another drag of his cigarette and he feels the exact fucking same. He puts it out on the ashtray they keep outside, he had about half left. It wasn’t his to smoke anyway.

He thinks about something Bee told him one day,  _ sometimes just have to talk about things _ , he reaches for his phone but it’s past midnight and a weekend and he doesn’t necessarily feel like waking up Betsy to talk about kisses of all fucking things. So he calls Renee instead. Relays the whole story to her but excludes all his feelings from it, keeps only his distaste for Neil’s gentleness.

“I don’t know Andrew. Maybe it’s just that, if you’re going to err, err on the side of kindness. Have you ever thought that maybe the reason he’s so careful is that he cares? Don’t you have someone you care about you don’t ever want to hurt in a way that really matters? That you feel like you have to protect, even without any of your deals?”

Andrew stares at the steps beneath him, focuses on the spot where the paint is chipping just a little and tries to drown out the way his brain is saying  _ Aaron and Nicky, and Neil. Neil too. Maybe Neil more than anyone else.  _ He can’t, it’s too loud. He gets it now.

“Renee, I have to go.”

“Okay. Say hi to Neil for me,” she tells him while he’s already on his way to turning off the call.

He makes his way back inside and just leans against the door for a while. For a second he almost wishes he was the type of person who wears his heart on his sleeve and that he could just turn to Neil and talk. Just talk, and talk, until there were no words left to be said. But that’s not Andrew. Andrew keeps his heart behind a hundred iron walls and Neil’s been corrosive enough. They weren’t supposed to have happened. Andrew and Neil. They weren’t. There was just so much that could go wrong. But Andrew wanted it. He’d gone so long not wanting anything, but he had wanted Neil and the worst part is that in the end, Neil had wanted him back. And that’s such a hard thing. To learn how to be wanted.

When he finally pulls himself away from the door he has a plan. He finds Neil sitting in bed where he left him, hugging a pillow. He looks upset, there’s something heavy in Andrew’s throat at the sight. And the worst part is that he tries to apologize. That he thinks he hurt Andrew. 

He walks up to Neil and grabs his chin, asks him  _ yes or no  _ and when Neil stops talking and says yes Andrew kisses him. And usually, usually, he kisses like he’s starved for it, like he needs it more than air. His kisses are harsh and bruising, like him. But today he has something to say that he can’t bring himself to. He has to thank Neil for caring and for being careful. He has to tell Neil that deep down inside he doesn’t know or want a life that doesn’t involve him. He has to tell Neil that he cares and that he wants him just as much. But Andrew never learned how to use his words for nice things so he kisses him. He moves his hands to the sides of Neil’s face and he kisses him slowly, just hard enough that Neil knows he means it. He strokes Neil’s cheek with his thumb and then pulls away, but only so he can press his forehead to Neil’s. He keeps his eyes closed as he does it because he doesn’t know how Neil will be looking at him. He’s scared. Of all the people in the world, Neil is the only one who could break him. 

Because Andrew would let him.

Neil whispers his name. It’s almost inaudible, but it sounds like wonder and it makes Andrew open his eyes and straighten himself up. In Neil’s face, he doesn’t see the same questions he has trapped in him, none of the " _ how do you love when you’ve never known love, the true kind, the limitless, boundless kind _ " that Andrew drowns in. No, Neil’s staring at him like he’s someone worth worshipping and Andrew has no idea how to even begin processing that.

“We should go to sleep,” he says. Because he wants Neil to know but he can’t say it.

“Okay.”

Neil slips under the covers and Andrew gets into bed next to him. When Neil turns to face the wall Andrew does something he hasn’t before. He gets closer to him, puts a hand on his shoulder and asks for permission. Because Andrew doesn’t know how to speak with vulnerability, and he doesn’t know to say he trusts. But he knows he can hold Neil. He can press his chest to Neil’s back, and his lips to Neil’s neck, and hold him. 

Neil says yes, but tells Andrew he’s not ever going to take something from him that Andrew doesn’t want to give, so if this is only for Neil’s benefit, then Andrew doesn’t have to do it. 

“If it gets too hot I’m letting go of you,” he says back. Neil laughs and pushes the covers away.

As he drifts to sleep, his hand over Neil’s stomach, he thinks that Neil is giving him his back again. He hopes one day he’ll find a way to give his to Neil. 

**Author's Note:**

> I'm firelordsboyfriend on tumblr, please feel free to drop by there! I'm also thinking of starting a request based weekly writing challenge for myself, so if you like my writing enough to request something from me please look out for some updates on this!


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